I wrote this poem on 1- 16- 11. After ten years of continuous war, which is unheard of in the history of America, maimed soldiers come home, with no perspective for good life or finding a job, or having a good health care to cure their body and soul; many of them are killed, I decided to write the poem "BOYHOOD GRACE".
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"Into a world of white washed walls
Where the dead and dying lay-
Wounded with road side bombs, suicide belts, shells, and balls
Someone's darling, so young, so brave...
Wearing still on his pale, sweet face-
Soon to be hidden by the dust of grave-
The lingering light of boyhood grace."
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I hoped with the change of regime, we won't have war anymore; we won't lose our young men and women anymore, but as usual I was dreaming. According to my study, in the 224 years of America's History, we have been in war %56 of the time; that leaves us only %44 at peace.
This poem is not published yet; but it will soon.
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